You Won`t Believe What It Can Do! (I)
By: M3May
Thread: Iron Writer
Posted: July 12, 2003
It was early morning in a faceless suburb, just one among so many, only just beginning to feel the sun`s first rays of light for the day. The lawns still glistened from the wet droplets that clung to the blades of grass, remnants of early morning sprinkler runs that gave them life in this sweltering heat.
As Olin Ulbright adjusted his tie, he couldn`t help but recall feverishly caring for his own lawn, out working on it every day, tending the flower beds, pruning the trees, and fertilizing the bushes. It was one of the few actions he`d prided himself on. He smiled and remembered how the kids down the street had labeled him "The Gardener", always whispering it when they thought he was within earshot, as if he would have found the name offensive. He secretly liked it, a fact which he kept to himself lest it spur them on to create a far more colorful nickname.
That was a lifetime ago, though. He no longer had a lawn to care for, nor a house. All he had was today, this job, and the clothes on his back. But, he was good at it, he knew. He was good at it. That was something no one could take away from him, no matter how they tried.
He watched carefully as the front door of the house directly in front of him opened and out stepped a man wearing a finely tailored suit and carrying a briefcase. The man leaned back in the doorway to kiss his wife goodbye for the day, then walked down to the drive holding a carefully lidded cup of coffee in his free hand. Where the man was off to Olin didn`t know, but his job couldn`t be even half as fun as Olin`s own. Olin truly loved his work.
He remained standing in one spot, which happened to be a street corner, and watched as the man backed out of the driveway and vanished down the road. A faceless man going to a faceless job.
Even when the man, had gone he still remained where he was. Experience had taught him not to rush things, not to pounce first thing in the morning. Someone dressed with a cup of coffee in them was far more likely to listen to you than someone in a bathrobe. Most would be bored at having to wait so early in the morning, but the truth was it was the time Olin most looked forward to, the time he used to psyche himself up for the day to come.
He stayed until the sun was high overhead, then he picked up his pack and crossed the street, making his way up the front path. With a final adjustment of his tie, he rang the doorbell and fixed a smile on his face.
A middle-aged woman with slightly graying hair answered a few moments later. "Good morning," he said, smile still in place. "My name is Olin Ulbright and I represent Spruce Industries. I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time to demonstrate our latest cleaning package?"
The woman seemed to hesitate a second, then asked, "What kind of cleaning package is it?"
"I`m glad you asked," Olin replied, shaking his finger at her for emphasis. "This is a multi-purpose cleaning machine that comes with a complete set of Spruce solvents." He slid off his coat and laid it down on the front porch, then produced a flask of red wine. "Observe," he said, emptying the contents on his coat. "And keep in mind, Miss, that you are my first stop and I will have to wear this coat for the rest of day." His smile had yet to leave his face. "We`ll just give it a few moments to set in," he said cheerfully. "Lovely day, isn`t it?" he offered.
"It`ll heat up soon enough," the woman replied. "John and I had no idea it would be this hot when we moved here."
Olin nodded knowingly. "The trick to dealing with the heat is to not think about it. If you don`t, then it doesn`t exist. It`s really simple, isn`t it? Without that trick I don`t know if I`d be able to walk around all day in a suit."
The woman laughed. "If only it were that easy. I sure hope your company is paying you enough for this abuse."
"No abuse at all, ma`am," Olin replied. "That should just about do it," he announced after inspecting his coat. "Now, observe as I take some of this special solvent..." He reached into his bag and produced a white squeeze-bottle, lazily squirting the liquid out in an S-shape on the stain. "...and then you take our new Dirt Leaf-- that`s someone at corporate`s idea of a pun, you know. Spruce is a tree, too, you see, and, well... he`s paid more than I am." Olin chuckled ruefully. "Anyway," he continued, "you take the Dirt Leaf like so and..." With the push of a button, he ran the hose of the machine over the stain. A few moments later, the coat was as good as new. It was almost as if the liquid had been sucked right out of the fabric.
Olin always liked this part, liked watching the reactions of his customers. After this, they usually immediately asked how much it was, and true to form, the first question to pass her lips was, "How much does the package cost?"
"Only 99GP and we`ll even throw in a 5% off coupon for your next solvent purchase." Olin picked up his coat and brushed a hand over the now-spotless back of it. "Do you happen to have kids?"
She seemed to be warming up to him, as they always did, and replied, "Yes, why do you ask?" He had a little trouble hearing the "yes", though, but smiled nonetheless.
"Then this will pay for itself in saved clothes. Imagine, never having to throw shirts out because they`ve been irreparably stained! Spruce has helped to take away the chief excuse kids use to convince their parents to buy them new clothes." He held up a hand to forestall any expression of gratitude from her. "No need to thank us, ma`am, it`s what we do." He looked over her shoulder and noticed some suitcases sitting by their hall closet. "Taking a trip?" he asked.
She nodded, but was all business and said, "I`ll take it. Just hang on one minute while I grab the money..."
The rest of their transaction went smoothly with Olin explaining the proper usage, which solvents to use for which stains, and where to call when she needed more of them. Finally, he gave her the box that contained the entire cleaning package. "Pleasure doing business with you, ma`am," he smiled. "You have a nice day, now, and enjoy your trip!" The woman shut the door and Olin walked down the path to the sidewalk, already heading towards the next house. There was no need to wait any longer, the day had begun and everyone would be up and dressed.
He rang the doorbell and smiled when a young lady opened it. "Good morning!" he said cheerily. "My name is Olin Ulbright and I represent Spruce Industries. I was wondering if I might have a moment of yo..."
"We`re not interested," the woman interrupted him. "Thank you."
Olin felt his temper start to rise. It wouldn`t look good on his record if he couldn`t even sell a Dirt Leaf to a slob of a woman in her twenties who, he could see behind her, couldn`t keep a house to save her life. "Ma`am," he replied tersely as she started to close the door, "it would only be a moment. If I could just..."
"I`m sorry," the fat cow repeated, "we`re not interested. Excuse me." Again she began to shut the door.
This job was all Olin had left, was all he was good at, and he wouldn`t let someone drag him down. Not again!
One hand shot out to the door frame while another slid into his bag. "No, I think you`re very interested," he said, pulling out a gun. He threw his full weight against the door, knocking her backwards onto the floor and gaining access to the house. "You know," he said, contemptuously, "it`s people like you that are wrong with the Web. Too busy to grant your neighbors the common courtesy of listening to them." She had to be taught a lesson. And she had to be shown how wrong she was to think she didn`t need a Dirt Leaf.
Grabbing his demonstration unit with his free hand, keeping the gun pointed at her with the other, he stepped through the door and kicked it shut behind him.
As Olin Ulbright adjusted his tie, he couldn`t help but recall feverishly caring for his own lawn, out working on it every day, tending the flower beds, pruning the trees, and fertilizing the bushes. It was one of the few actions he`d prided himself on. He smiled and remembered how the kids down the street had labeled him "The Gardener", always whispering it when they thought he was within earshot, as if he would have found the name offensive. He secretly liked it, a fact which he kept to himself lest it spur them on to create a far more colorful nickname.
That was a lifetime ago, though. He no longer had a lawn to care for, nor a house. All he had was today, this job, and the clothes on his back. But, he was good at it, he knew. He was good at it. That was something no one could take away from him, no matter how they tried.
He watched carefully as the front door of the house directly in front of him opened and out stepped a man wearing a finely tailored suit and carrying a briefcase. The man leaned back in the doorway to kiss his wife goodbye for the day, then walked down to the drive holding a carefully lidded cup of coffee in his free hand. Where the man was off to Olin didn`t know, but his job couldn`t be even half as fun as Olin`s own. Olin truly loved his work.
He remained standing in one spot, which happened to be a street corner, and watched as the man backed out of the driveway and vanished down the road. A faceless man going to a faceless job.
Even when the man, had gone he still remained where he was. Experience had taught him not to rush things, not to pounce first thing in the morning. Someone dressed with a cup of coffee in them was far more likely to listen to you than someone in a bathrobe. Most would be bored at having to wait so early in the morning, but the truth was it was the time Olin most looked forward to, the time he used to psyche himself up for the day to come.
He stayed until the sun was high overhead, then he picked up his pack and crossed the street, making his way up the front path. With a final adjustment of his tie, he rang the doorbell and fixed a smile on his face.
A middle-aged woman with slightly graying hair answered a few moments later. "Good morning," he said, smile still in place. "My name is Olin Ulbright and I represent Spruce Industries. I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time to demonstrate our latest cleaning package?"
The woman seemed to hesitate a second, then asked, "What kind of cleaning package is it?"
"I`m glad you asked," Olin replied, shaking his finger at her for emphasis. "This is a multi-purpose cleaning machine that comes with a complete set of Spruce solvents." He slid off his coat and laid it down on the front porch, then produced a flask of red wine. "Observe," he said, emptying the contents on his coat. "And keep in mind, Miss, that you are my first stop and I will have to wear this coat for the rest of day." His smile had yet to leave his face. "We`ll just give it a few moments to set in," he said cheerfully. "Lovely day, isn`t it?" he offered.
"It`ll heat up soon enough," the woman replied. "John and I had no idea it would be this hot when we moved here."
Olin nodded knowingly. "The trick to dealing with the heat is to not think about it. If you don`t, then it doesn`t exist. It`s really simple, isn`t it? Without that trick I don`t know if I`d be able to walk around all day in a suit."
The woman laughed. "If only it were that easy. I sure hope your company is paying you enough for this abuse."
"No abuse at all, ma`am," Olin replied. "That should just about do it," he announced after inspecting his coat. "Now, observe as I take some of this special solvent..." He reached into his bag and produced a white squeeze-bottle, lazily squirting the liquid out in an S-shape on the stain. "...and then you take our new Dirt Leaf-- that`s someone at corporate`s idea of a pun, you know. Spruce is a tree, too, you see, and, well... he`s paid more than I am." Olin chuckled ruefully. "Anyway," he continued, "you take the Dirt Leaf like so and..." With the push of a button, he ran the hose of the machine over the stain. A few moments later, the coat was as good as new. It was almost as if the liquid had been sucked right out of the fabric.
Olin always liked this part, liked watching the reactions of his customers. After this, they usually immediately asked how much it was, and true to form, the first question to pass her lips was, "How much does the package cost?"
"Only 99GP and we`ll even throw in a 5% off coupon for your next solvent purchase." Olin picked up his coat and brushed a hand over the now-spotless back of it. "Do you happen to have kids?"
She seemed to be warming up to him, as they always did, and replied, "Yes, why do you ask?" He had a little trouble hearing the "yes", though, but smiled nonetheless.
"Then this will pay for itself in saved clothes. Imagine, never having to throw shirts out because they`ve been irreparably stained! Spruce has helped to take away the chief excuse kids use to convince their parents to buy them new clothes." He held up a hand to forestall any expression of gratitude from her. "No need to thank us, ma`am, it`s what we do." He looked over her shoulder and noticed some suitcases sitting by their hall closet. "Taking a trip?" he asked.
She nodded, but was all business and said, "I`ll take it. Just hang on one minute while I grab the money..."
The rest of their transaction went smoothly with Olin explaining the proper usage, which solvents to use for which stains, and where to call when she needed more of them. Finally, he gave her the box that contained the entire cleaning package. "Pleasure doing business with you, ma`am," he smiled. "You have a nice day, now, and enjoy your trip!" The woman shut the door and Olin walked down the path to the sidewalk, already heading towards the next house. There was no need to wait any longer, the day had begun and everyone would be up and dressed.
He rang the doorbell and smiled when a young lady opened it. "Good morning!" he said cheerily. "My name is Olin Ulbright and I represent Spruce Industries. I was wondering if I might have a moment of yo..."
"We`re not interested," the woman interrupted him. "Thank you."
Olin felt his temper start to rise. It wouldn`t look good on his record if he couldn`t even sell a Dirt Leaf to a slob of a woman in her twenties who, he could see behind her, couldn`t keep a house to save her life. "Ma`am," he replied tersely as she started to close the door, "it would only be a moment. If I could just..."
"I`m sorry," the fat cow repeated, "we`re not interested. Excuse me." Again she began to shut the door.
This job was all Olin had left, was all he was good at, and he wouldn`t let someone drag him down. Not again!
One hand shot out to the door frame while another slid into his bag. "No, I think you`re very interested," he said, pulling out a gun. He threw his full weight against the door, knocking her backwards onto the floor and gaining access to the house. "You know," he said, contemptuously, "it`s people like you that are wrong with the Web. Too busy to grant your neighbors the common courtesy of listening to them." She had to be taught a lesson. And she had to be shown how wrong she was to think she didn`t need a Dirt Leaf.
Grabbing his demonstration unit with his free hand, keeping the gun pointed at her with the other, he stepped through the door and kicked it shut behind him.
You Won`t Believe What It Can Do! (II)
By: M3May
Thread: Iron Writer
Posted: July 12, 2003
Cray wasn`t sure what to make of things as he listened to the other man outline the specifics of the case. For starters, it wasn`t something typical of, well, cleaning companies. Mail companies, sure. Cubicle hives called businesses, you betcha. But, cleaning companies? No. That was odd and Cray knew it. What`s more, the head of Spruce Industries knew it as well.
He studied the man`s shelf, full of plaques and momentos of a lifetime spent building this company from the ground up-- why somebody would sweat blood and tears to create a cleaning company Cray didn`t know, but he wasn`t paid to judge. He plucked a silver pen out of its decorative holder and began twirling it between his fingers as he resumed listening to specifics.
"She was his fifth victim," the man said. It was odd, Cray thought, that someone hadn`t been brought in on the first victim, to say nothing of the second, third, and fourth ones. "Horribly mutilated, murdered, and cleaned. He`s refused to obey all orders to return to the company and insists on continuing to sell our product door-to-door. He`s also managed to elude the people we`ve sent to bring him back. Given our situation, Mr... Cray, was it?... I`m sure you can understand our desire to be discreet on the matter. If such a thing were to be leaked to the general public, the results could prove disasterous for my company. Thousands could lose their jobs."
It was a smooth move, playing the sympathy card, throwing the livelihoods of the middle-class workers out there to mask his own greed and self-preservation instinct. Cray didn`t care one way or another, truth be told. Both had their uses and right now the greedy man sitting behind this desk was willing to pay him a sizeable amount to make this problem go away, so that`s what he`d do. Of course, that didn`t prevent him from being naturally curious. "How have you managed that, anyway?" he asked.
"Beg your pardon?"
"Keeping this quiet." Cray could forgive the man`s slowness as being caused by stress. The fool had hired a nutso who`d begun killing people and that was enough to make anybody stressed. "I would have thought something would have registered on somebody`s radar screen by now, police, media, neighbors. All it takes is a phonecall. So, why hasn`t the story broken yet?"
The man appeared unnerved by the question, but answered it anyway. "We have a... friend.... within the police department who has managed to keep these cases from becoming `official`, although we don`t have much time before even he can`t help us."
That answered Cray`s question, sure enough. They had a cop on their payroll. Bribery. That was convenient, for them anyway.
"That`s why we`ve turned to you, Mr. Cray," the man continued. "You came highly recommended from an associate of mine, who assured me that you`d be able to help us resolve this matter before any more unfortunate accidents occur. Discreetly."
Cray nodded absentmindedly and returned the pen to its holder. "Well, I`ll see what I can do. How much are you willing to pay?"
That seemed to loosen the man up considerably, no doubt awakening the businessman in him that lived to haggle over the cost of things. "We are prepared to offer you 5,000GP to apprehend this man before he commits another murder, afterwhich we`ll pay you 3,500GP. Surely you`d agree that`s fair?"
Cray raised an eyebrow at the man. He certainly had guts to propose such a price. "Docking my pay if I don`t get him before victim number six? Sure, that`s fair. 5,000GP? I thought your company`s future was on the line here. Are you saying your company is only worth a measly 5,000GP?"
The man seemed to take the response in stride, although a little bit of the color left his cheeks. "What would you consider a fair price, Mr. Cray? Afterall, despite the glowing recommendation I received, I`m still not clear what exactly it is you do."
Cray flashed him a wide smile. "Honestly? Neither am I. The closest anyone`s come to describing me is `jack of all trades`, but that didn`t look good on the business cards. So, I quit trying to come up with a description and decided I didn`t need business cards. I do what I`m paid to do, whether it`s re-shingling a roof, walking a dog, or hunting down a homicidal maniac who kills people and then cleans them with his company`s product." He allowed himself a bit of satisfaction at the man`s surprised expression. He was no doubt trying to reconcile that description with the story he`d been told. Cray wasn`t sure who it was who had recommended him to Spruce Industries, nor did he care. A job was a job.
"Then... you`d even kill a man?"
Cray dodged the question by inquiring, "Why, are you asking?" It was always better to let the customer ask for an illegal service rather than offer it yourself. It allowed for some sense of respectability, to say nothing of deniability.
The man backtracked quickly, shaking his head and saying, "No, no, of course not."
"Then, we won`t need to cover that subject. Anyway," he waved a hand through the air, "the price. I know that Spruce is a multi-million GP company. What you offer is less than 1% of its overall worth. That`s kind of a slap in the face, don`t you think?"
The CEO shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. "I... suppose," he granted.
"Well, then," Cray said, "so long as we agree on that, I`ll do it for 20,000GP. No sense in being too greedy."
Once more the man was surprised and wasn`t afraid to show it. He had to be aware of the bargain he was being offered and was probably having trouble forming the words to accept it. Cray decided to help him along and said, "Well, if you`re not interested, our business here is done."
"No," the man blurted out. "No, that`s quite acceptable. As a matter of fact, I`ll give you an extra 5,000GP if you catch Ulbright before he kills anyone else."
"You`re too kind," Cray said, bowing his head. "I`ll have the paperwork sent over. Now, I trust you`ve already prepared the details for my use?"
The man handed Cray a folder. "Everything we know is in there."
He turned his back to the man and began walking towards the office door. "In that case, I`ll be in touch. Later." He waved goodbye over his shoulder before leaving the office.
He studied the man`s shelf, full of plaques and momentos of a lifetime spent building this company from the ground up-- why somebody would sweat blood and tears to create a cleaning company Cray didn`t know, but he wasn`t paid to judge. He plucked a silver pen out of its decorative holder and began twirling it between his fingers as he resumed listening to specifics.
"She was his fifth victim," the man said. It was odd, Cray thought, that someone hadn`t been brought in on the first victim, to say nothing of the second, third, and fourth ones. "Horribly mutilated, murdered, and cleaned. He`s refused to obey all orders to return to the company and insists on continuing to sell our product door-to-door. He`s also managed to elude the people we`ve sent to bring him back. Given our situation, Mr... Cray, was it?... I`m sure you can understand our desire to be discreet on the matter. If such a thing were to be leaked to the general public, the results could prove disasterous for my company. Thousands could lose their jobs."
It was a smooth move, playing the sympathy card, throwing the livelihoods of the middle-class workers out there to mask his own greed and self-preservation instinct. Cray didn`t care one way or another, truth be told. Both had their uses and right now the greedy man sitting behind this desk was willing to pay him a sizeable amount to make this problem go away, so that`s what he`d do. Of course, that didn`t prevent him from being naturally curious. "How have you managed that, anyway?" he asked.
"Beg your pardon?"
"Keeping this quiet." Cray could forgive the man`s slowness as being caused by stress. The fool had hired a nutso who`d begun killing people and that was enough to make anybody stressed. "I would have thought something would have registered on somebody`s radar screen by now, police, media, neighbors. All it takes is a phonecall. So, why hasn`t the story broken yet?"
The man appeared unnerved by the question, but answered it anyway. "We have a... friend.... within the police department who has managed to keep these cases from becoming `official`, although we don`t have much time before even he can`t help us."
That answered Cray`s question, sure enough. They had a cop on their payroll. Bribery. That was convenient, for them anyway.
"That`s why we`ve turned to you, Mr. Cray," the man continued. "You came highly recommended from an associate of mine, who assured me that you`d be able to help us resolve this matter before any more unfortunate accidents occur. Discreetly."
Cray nodded absentmindedly and returned the pen to its holder. "Well, I`ll see what I can do. How much are you willing to pay?"
That seemed to loosen the man up considerably, no doubt awakening the businessman in him that lived to haggle over the cost of things. "We are prepared to offer you 5,000GP to apprehend this man before he commits another murder, afterwhich we`ll pay you 3,500GP. Surely you`d agree that`s fair?"
Cray raised an eyebrow at the man. He certainly had guts to propose such a price. "Docking my pay if I don`t get him before victim number six? Sure, that`s fair. 5,000GP? I thought your company`s future was on the line here. Are you saying your company is only worth a measly 5,000GP?"
The man seemed to take the response in stride, although a little bit of the color left his cheeks. "What would you consider a fair price, Mr. Cray? Afterall, despite the glowing recommendation I received, I`m still not clear what exactly it is you do."
Cray flashed him a wide smile. "Honestly? Neither am I. The closest anyone`s come to describing me is `jack of all trades`, but that didn`t look good on the business cards. So, I quit trying to come up with a description and decided I didn`t need business cards. I do what I`m paid to do, whether it`s re-shingling a roof, walking a dog, or hunting down a homicidal maniac who kills people and then cleans them with his company`s product." He allowed himself a bit of satisfaction at the man`s surprised expression. He was no doubt trying to reconcile that description with the story he`d been told. Cray wasn`t sure who it was who had recommended him to Spruce Industries, nor did he care. A job was a job.
"Then... you`d even kill a man?"
Cray dodged the question by inquiring, "Why, are you asking?" It was always better to let the customer ask for an illegal service rather than offer it yourself. It allowed for some sense of respectability, to say nothing of deniability.
The man backtracked quickly, shaking his head and saying, "No, no, of course not."
"Then, we won`t need to cover that subject. Anyway," he waved a hand through the air, "the price. I know that Spruce is a multi-million GP company. What you offer is less than 1% of its overall worth. That`s kind of a slap in the face, don`t you think?"
The CEO shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. "I... suppose," he granted.
"Well, then," Cray said, "so long as we agree on that, I`ll do it for 20,000GP. No sense in being too greedy."
Once more the man was surprised and wasn`t afraid to show it. He had to be aware of the bargain he was being offered and was probably having trouble forming the words to accept it. Cray decided to help him along and said, "Well, if you`re not interested, our business here is done."
"No," the man blurted out. "No, that`s quite acceptable. As a matter of fact, I`ll give you an extra 5,000GP if you catch Ulbright before he kills anyone else."
"You`re too kind," Cray said, bowing his head. "I`ll have the paperwork sent over. Now, I trust you`ve already prepared the details for my use?"
The man handed Cray a folder. "Everything we know is in there."
He turned his back to the man and began walking towards the office door. "In that case, I`ll be in touch. Later." He waved goodbye over his shoulder before leaving the office.
You Won`t Believe What It Can Do! (III)
By: M3May
Thread: Iron Writer
Posted: July 12, 2003
Thomas Conte rapped his knuckles on the counter to get the other man`s attention. "Gimme another one, Stan," he said.
The barkeep rounded on Thomas, his eyes honing in on the untouched glass in front of him. "You`re still full-up, Tom," he replied. Thomas chuckled to himself. He didn`t understand. He`d forgotten, afterall.
"This one is for Lily," Thomas replied. "It`s her birthday today. Or was, rather."
The barkeeper, Stan, frowned and apologized immediately. "I`m sorry, Tom, it totally slipped my mind. Sure, here." He grabbed the bottle and slid two more glasses over to them, filling them both with the liquor. He took one of the glasses and raised it, waiting for Thomas to do the same. "To Lily," he said, "on her birthday, may it be a happy one!"
Thomas smiled and took a sip of his drink. He knew Stan wasn`t supposed to drink while on duty, which made the toast all the more significant. He let out a sigh. The more the years passed since his wife Lily had been taken away, the more people were starting to forget the little occasions, the days they`d been sure to offer her a smile or a tip of the hat. More than a few had offered her flowers, he remembered fondly, something that always made her blush furiously and protest that she didn`t deserve them, but she did in Thomas` eyes and, apparently, in the eyes of their neighbors.
It wasn`t much, but Thomas had always brought her into town on her birthday and they`d always made sure to stop by Stan`s. He was an old friend, one they couldn`t think of living without.
As he studied the countertop and the room around him, he couldn`t help but remember the many times they`d come here, couldn`t help seeing her sitting on the stool right next to him, laughing at one of Stan`s jokes or protesting that she hadn`t had enough yet. He tried to blink back tears.
"I miss her, Stan," he whispered.
"I know, Tom," the barkeeper replied, resting a hand on his friend`s shoulder. "I know."
Cray glanced at the slip of paper in his hand, checking to make sure he was at the right address. Yep, this is it.
He glanced over at the next house, noting how dark it was. Then again, how lively could a dead woman`s house be? He shoved the scrap of paper into his pocket and walked up to the door, pushing the bell when he reached it. It took a few moments before someone answered, a woman in her mid-forties with silver wisps scattered throughout her hair.
"How do you do, ma`am?" he said, smiling. He could tell she was studying his clothes and he silently wished he`d put on something fancier than a pair of jeans and a white shirt. At least he was wearing a jacket, too, though. On the other hand, maybe the jacket was a bit much.
He shoved the trivial thoughts out of his mind and continued his introduction. "I represent Spruce Industries and I understand you recently purchased one of our cleaning packages. We`re conducting employee evaluations and I was wondering if I might be able to speak to you about the representative who sold you your unit?" He spread his hands as if to illustrate this situation was beyond his control. "If you wouldn`t mind."
She opened the door further to let him in. "No, not at all," she said, smiling back at him.
Cray bowed and entered the home. As he did so, he couldn`t help but notice many bare spots on the wall and crisp outlines on the carpet, as if until recently something had stood there to prevent the dirt that had built up on the carpet elsewhere from touching there. "Rearranging things?" he asked, casually.
"In a manner of speaking," she said. "My husband-- soon to be ex-husband-- just moved out and took his junk with him. I find I like the open space, though." She gestured to the living room. "Please, sit down."
"Thank you," Cray replied, taking a seat on a large, overstuffed white couch.
"I`m glad you stopped by, actually," the woman said, seating herself opposite him. "I`ve been meaning to call your company about that man. He was a little nosy, no crime in and of itself I`ll grant you, but more than that he was a very... well... creepy man. I eventually bought one of your packages just to get rid of him." She quickly held up her hand. "Not that it hasn`t wound up being very handy, mind you. If that`s the way you folks want to sell your products, so be it, but it`s not good business practice."
Cray would have laughed if he hadn`t thought the woman would find such a response strange. He honestly didn`t care how good Spruce`s Dirt Leaf wound up being or about the tactics they used. Nonetheless, he had a part to play. "I`m very happy to hear you`re satisfied with our product, ma`am," he said. "Now, you said our representative was `creepy`. How so?"
"Well," the woman started, "for one thing he stood on our street corner for three hours before coming up here. It was almost enough to make me ask my louse of a husband to stay home from work, for all the good that would have done. A ten year old girl could beat him in a fight. But, he`d be better to have than nothing, right? I could have at least gotten away while he was hacked to bits."
Cray nodded understandingly, waiting for her to finish her diatribe against her soon-to-be ex-husband and continue her story. He glanced around her house, noting how beige it was. Then, he noticed a few open bottles through a doorway, on the kitchen counter, and he realized exactly why this woman was being so friendly and forthcoming.
"So, anyway, like I said he stood around for about three hours..."
Cray returned his attention to the woman.
"Then, he comes up here, knocks on the door, and says he represents some cleaning company. No offense, but that sounded fishy. I tried to trip him up by asking him which one, but I`ll be darned he actually did work for you guys. Of course, I was feeling a bit silly at that point so I tried being friendly and offering some chit-chat, but he always had this smile on his face that was creepy..."
She seemed to like that word, at least when describing Ulbright. "And then what happened?"
"Well!" the woman said, incredulously. "He asked me if I had kids and I asked why he wanted to know, but then he keeps on talking to me as if I`d said `yes`! Imagine, having children with a swine like my husband? Please."
At another time and place, Cray would have been very interested to learn what it was, exactly, her husband had done to her, but, he decided not to broach the subject lest she go off on more tangents.
"After that, I decided he wasn`t quite right in the head and I was getting a little uneasy, standing there talking to him. I wanted him to leave, but, of course, I couldn`t be rude. No, that`s John`s department. Anyway, after that, he noticed my husband`s suitcases-- he`d conveniently forgotten to load them in the car so he`d have an excuse to drop by later-- but this man mistook it for us taking a trip, and, well, like I said I wanted him gone. So, I just grabbed my money and bought one of your blasted things, expecting to have paid top dollar for a piece of junk just to get rid of some weirdo. But, you know, it`s actually pretty good at cleaning stuff. I`m glad to have gotten it."
Cray gave her a nod. "And what happened after that?" he asked.
The woman shrugged. "Nothing. He gave me the package and left to bug one of the neighbors."
"I see," Cray said. He was a little disappointed that the visit hadn`t yielded any clues as to which way Ulbright was headed, but, it did give him a good feel for the man. From the sound of it, "creepy" was an apt description. "Rest assured," he continued, "we`ll deal with our wayward employee`s manners. You`ve been most helpful." He rose to his feet and she did the same.
"Oh, it was my pleasure," the woman smiled, flicking her hand in his direction. "Drop by again sometime! I`d love to hear what else Spruce has to offer us."
Cray smiled and bowed his head. "Perhaps sometime in the future. Till then, be sure to have a pleasant day."
With that, Cray let himself out and headed directly for his car. If this was Ulbright`s first stop and the victim was his second stop, then he was moving east. According to the file Cray had been given, Ulbright refused to use any form of transportation and walked his route. That made things simpler. There was a small town about ten miles away, he knew, which would be worth checking to see if his weirdo salesman had passed through. It beat knocking on all the doors here, in any case. Afterall, it wasn`t as if they were going anywhere.
The barkeep rounded on Thomas, his eyes honing in on the untouched glass in front of him. "You`re still full-up, Tom," he replied. Thomas chuckled to himself. He didn`t understand. He`d forgotten, afterall.
"This one is for Lily," Thomas replied. "It`s her birthday today. Or was, rather."
The barkeeper, Stan, frowned and apologized immediately. "I`m sorry, Tom, it totally slipped my mind. Sure, here." He grabbed the bottle and slid two more glasses over to them, filling them both with the liquor. He took one of the glasses and raised it, waiting for Thomas to do the same. "To Lily," he said, "on her birthday, may it be a happy one!"
Thomas smiled and took a sip of his drink. He knew Stan wasn`t supposed to drink while on duty, which made the toast all the more significant. He let out a sigh. The more the years passed since his wife Lily had been taken away, the more people were starting to forget the little occasions, the days they`d been sure to offer her a smile or a tip of the hat. More than a few had offered her flowers, he remembered fondly, something that always made her blush furiously and protest that she didn`t deserve them, but she did in Thomas` eyes and, apparently, in the eyes of their neighbors.
It wasn`t much, but Thomas had always brought her into town on her birthday and they`d always made sure to stop by Stan`s. He was an old friend, one they couldn`t think of living without.
As he studied the countertop and the room around him, he couldn`t help but remember the many times they`d come here, couldn`t help seeing her sitting on the stool right next to him, laughing at one of Stan`s jokes or protesting that she hadn`t had enough yet. He tried to blink back tears.
"I miss her, Stan," he whispered.
"I know, Tom," the barkeeper replied, resting a hand on his friend`s shoulder. "I know."
Cray glanced at the slip of paper in his hand, checking to make sure he was at the right address. Yep, this is it.
He glanced over at the next house, noting how dark it was. Then again, how lively could a dead woman`s house be? He shoved the scrap of paper into his pocket and walked up to the door, pushing the bell when he reached it. It took a few moments before someone answered, a woman in her mid-forties with silver wisps scattered throughout her hair.
"How do you do, ma`am?" he said, smiling. He could tell she was studying his clothes and he silently wished he`d put on something fancier than a pair of jeans and a white shirt. At least he was wearing a jacket, too, though. On the other hand, maybe the jacket was a bit much.
He shoved the trivial thoughts out of his mind and continued his introduction. "I represent Spruce Industries and I understand you recently purchased one of our cleaning packages. We`re conducting employee evaluations and I was wondering if I might be able to speak to you about the representative who sold you your unit?" He spread his hands as if to illustrate this situation was beyond his control. "If you wouldn`t mind."
She opened the door further to let him in. "No, not at all," she said, smiling back at him.
Cray bowed and entered the home. As he did so, he couldn`t help but notice many bare spots on the wall and crisp outlines on the carpet, as if until recently something had stood there to prevent the dirt that had built up on the carpet elsewhere from touching there. "Rearranging things?" he asked, casually.
"In a manner of speaking," she said. "My husband-- soon to be ex-husband-- just moved out and took his junk with him. I find I like the open space, though." She gestured to the living room. "Please, sit down."
"Thank you," Cray replied, taking a seat on a large, overstuffed white couch.
"I`m glad you stopped by, actually," the woman said, seating herself opposite him. "I`ve been meaning to call your company about that man. He was a little nosy, no crime in and of itself I`ll grant you, but more than that he was a very... well... creepy man. I eventually bought one of your packages just to get rid of him." She quickly held up her hand. "Not that it hasn`t wound up being very handy, mind you. If that`s the way you folks want to sell your products, so be it, but it`s not good business practice."
Cray would have laughed if he hadn`t thought the woman would find such a response strange. He honestly didn`t care how good Spruce`s Dirt Leaf wound up being or about the tactics they used. Nonetheless, he had a part to play. "I`m very happy to hear you`re satisfied with our product, ma`am," he said. "Now, you said our representative was `creepy`. How so?"
"Well," the woman started, "for one thing he stood on our street corner for three hours before coming up here. It was almost enough to make me ask my louse of a husband to stay home from work, for all the good that would have done. A ten year old girl could beat him in a fight. But, he`d be better to have than nothing, right? I could have at least gotten away while he was hacked to bits."
Cray nodded understandingly, waiting for her to finish her diatribe against her soon-to-be ex-husband and continue her story. He glanced around her house, noting how beige it was. Then, he noticed a few open bottles through a doorway, on the kitchen counter, and he realized exactly why this woman was being so friendly and forthcoming.
"So, anyway, like I said he stood around for about three hours..."
Cray returned his attention to the woman.
"Then, he comes up here, knocks on the door, and says he represents some cleaning company. No offense, but that sounded fishy. I tried to trip him up by asking him which one, but I`ll be darned he actually did work for you guys. Of course, I was feeling a bit silly at that point so I tried being friendly and offering some chit-chat, but he always had this smile on his face that was creepy..."
She seemed to like that word, at least when describing Ulbright. "And then what happened?"
"Well!" the woman said, incredulously. "He asked me if I had kids and I asked why he wanted to know, but then he keeps on talking to me as if I`d said `yes`! Imagine, having children with a swine like my husband? Please."
At another time and place, Cray would have been very interested to learn what it was, exactly, her husband had done to her, but, he decided not to broach the subject lest she go off on more tangents.
"After that, I decided he wasn`t quite right in the head and I was getting a little uneasy, standing there talking to him. I wanted him to leave, but, of course, I couldn`t be rude. No, that`s John`s department. Anyway, after that, he noticed my husband`s suitcases-- he`d conveniently forgotten to load them in the car so he`d have an excuse to drop by later-- but this man mistook it for us taking a trip, and, well, like I said I wanted him gone. So, I just grabbed my money and bought one of your blasted things, expecting to have paid top dollar for a piece of junk just to get rid of some weirdo. But, you know, it`s actually pretty good at cleaning stuff. I`m glad to have gotten it."
Cray gave her a nod. "And what happened after that?" he asked.
The woman shrugged. "Nothing. He gave me the package and left to bug one of the neighbors."
"I see," Cray said. He was a little disappointed that the visit hadn`t yielded any clues as to which way Ulbright was headed, but, it did give him a good feel for the man. From the sound of it, "creepy" was an apt description. "Rest assured," he continued, "we`ll deal with our wayward employee`s manners. You`ve been most helpful." He rose to his feet and she did the same.
"Oh, it was my pleasure," the woman smiled, flicking her hand in his direction. "Drop by again sometime! I`d love to hear what else Spruce has to offer us."
Cray smiled and bowed his head. "Perhaps sometime in the future. Till then, be sure to have a pleasant day."
With that, Cray let himself out and headed directly for his car. If this was Ulbright`s first stop and the victim was his second stop, then he was moving east. According to the file Cray had been given, Ulbright refused to use any form of transportation and walked his route. That made things simpler. There was a small town about ten miles away, he knew, which would be worth checking to see if his weirdo salesman had passed through. It beat knocking on all the doors here, in any case. Afterall, it wasn`t as if they were going anywhere.
You Won`t Believe What It Can Do! (IV)
By: M3May
Thread: Iron Writer
Posted: July 12, 2003
For a small town, it sure wasn`t a clean one, Cray thought. Maybe he`d be better off letting Ulbright sell a few of his units before he nabbed him. Of course, that would present him with an opportunity for victim number six and lose Cray the 5,000GP bonus, but as he stepped in a pile of muck, he was sorely tempted.
As he looked around the town, he realized there were no suburb areas to it and, in fact, this main street seemed to be it. It was one of those good news/bad news situations, with the good news being that the likelihood somebody saw him pass through increased substantially. The bad news was that it also meant Ulbright wasn`t here anymore.
With a resigned sigh, Cray headed over towards the bar. Good source of information and also a place he could buy a drink. That made it a winner in his book.
He didn`t bother looking at the other patrons in the establishment and immediately took a stool up at the counter. After ordering his drink, he asked, casually, "So, has anybody passed through here recently?"
The bartender eyed him warily, replying, "Sure, lots."
Naturally, someplace like this would have suspicious bartenders. Cray swished his drink around, appearing to be studying it as he said, "Some salesman conned my boss and was heading this way. My employer is most anxious to meet with him again and I was hoping you`d be able to help. It would be unfortunate if you got on his bad side." Which was true enough. This town needed the cleaning materials badly. Cray nearly smiled at the fact that he hadn`t actually told a lie-- never tell a lie if you can avoid it. Words like "boss" and "employer" carried far different meanings here than they did elsewhere and was usually enough to make people think twice before deceiving you lest they incur the wrath of this "boss". As with everything else, it was always better to let others fill in the blanks.
The revelation that he was only looking for a traveling salesman seemed to relax the bartender considerably, so much so that he let out a chuckle and answered before he could think about asking how much Cray would pay for the information. "Yeah, I seen him. Passed through here the other day askin` about places to sell his junk. Told him there weren`t any and he should try the next town up."
"I see," Cray nodded. "And how far away is the next town?"
The bartender shrugged. "I dunno. I`ve never gone there. I just know it`s thataway." He pointed to a wall that may or may not have the right direction, but Cray thanked him anyway and rose to leave.
"Your help has been appreciated. I`ll make sure that my employer amply rewards you." Maybe he could convince Spruce to send them a vacuum.
As Cray headed towards the door, three people who had been sitting at a table having a drink or two or three rose and blocked his path. Cray stopped in midstride and tightened his lips into a grim smile. He gazed down at the floor to control his temper, then said, "Is there something I can help you with?"
The one in the middle shoved him back a step, saying, "I know who you work for. I know you."
"I doubt you even know how to spell your own name, let alone know mine," Cray replied.
The man shoved him again, more forcefully this time. "You`re one of his men, aren`tcha? Well?!" A third shove, again it was harder than the last. "We don`t want your kind comin` around here!"
On his own time, Cray would have enjoyed this, but he had a salesman to catch up to and these men were nothing more than distractions. "Look, sir, you and your friends are obviously drunk, why don`t you go back to your table, down your thirtieth shot of whatever it is you`re able to afford, and leave me alone?"
The man moved to shove him a fourth time, but, Cray caught him by the wrist with his own vicelike grip. "Let go of me!" the man shouted as his friends moved to intervene.
"Certainly," Cray said, bringing his knee up into the man`s groin and giving him a shove. He stepped back immediately so that he was out of the reach of squeaky`s friends.
Well, there was nothing that said he couldn`t have a little fun on somebody else`s dime for a change. Before they had time to react, he sprang forward and grabbed one of the three by the back of the neck. He spun him around and slammed his head down against the table with enough force to make the cheap wood splinter and send glasses flying everywhere. He loosened his grip and let the man fall to the floor, unconscious.
He whirled around, grabbed the second man by the wrist and twisted it around so it was pressed into his back. Cray smirked and pushed it up a little until a pop and a scream announced he`d broken the man`s elbow. While he let the man howl in pain, he quickly grabbed a pitcher of beer from one of the tables and cracked it over his head, flooring him.
With a sigh as if to say, "All in a day`s work", he turned back to the original thug who was beginning to recover from the initial blow. "Well," he said, "it`s your own fault." He spun around, delivering a kick to the side of the man`s head, which sent him staggering down to the floor with his comrades.
"Sorry about the mess," Cray called back to the bartender. "Just give my employer a call and I`m sure he`ll pay for everything." As he left the bar, Cray smiled to himself over the thought of the bartender trying to get some local crimelord to pay for the damages to his establishment. He almost wished he could be there to see it.
As he looked around the town, he realized there were no suburb areas to it and, in fact, this main street seemed to be it. It was one of those good news/bad news situations, with the good news being that the likelihood somebody saw him pass through increased substantially. The bad news was that it also meant Ulbright wasn`t here anymore.
With a resigned sigh, Cray headed over towards the bar. Good source of information and also a place he could buy a drink. That made it a winner in his book.
He didn`t bother looking at the other patrons in the establishment and immediately took a stool up at the counter. After ordering his drink, he asked, casually, "So, has anybody passed through here recently?"
The bartender eyed him warily, replying, "Sure, lots."
Naturally, someplace like this would have suspicious bartenders. Cray swished his drink around, appearing to be studying it as he said, "Some salesman conned my boss and was heading this way. My employer is most anxious to meet with him again and I was hoping you`d be able to help. It would be unfortunate if you got on his bad side." Which was true enough. This town needed the cleaning materials badly. Cray nearly smiled at the fact that he hadn`t actually told a lie-- never tell a lie if you can avoid it. Words like "boss" and "employer" carried far different meanings here than they did elsewhere and was usually enough to make people think twice before deceiving you lest they incur the wrath of this "boss". As with everything else, it was always better to let others fill in the blanks.
The revelation that he was only looking for a traveling salesman seemed to relax the bartender considerably, so much so that he let out a chuckle and answered before he could think about asking how much Cray would pay for the information. "Yeah, I seen him. Passed through here the other day askin` about places to sell his junk. Told him there weren`t any and he should try the next town up."
"I see," Cray nodded. "And how far away is the next town?"
The bartender shrugged. "I dunno. I`ve never gone there. I just know it`s thataway." He pointed to a wall that may or may not have the right direction, but Cray thanked him anyway and rose to leave.
"Your help has been appreciated. I`ll make sure that my employer amply rewards you." Maybe he could convince Spruce to send them a vacuum.
As Cray headed towards the door, three people who had been sitting at a table having a drink or two or three rose and blocked his path. Cray stopped in midstride and tightened his lips into a grim smile. He gazed down at the floor to control his temper, then said, "Is there something I can help you with?"
The one in the middle shoved him back a step, saying, "I know who you work for. I know you."
"I doubt you even know how to spell your own name, let alone know mine," Cray replied.
The man shoved him again, more forcefully this time. "You`re one of his men, aren`tcha? Well?!" A third shove, again it was harder than the last. "We don`t want your kind comin` around here!"
On his own time, Cray would have enjoyed this, but he had a salesman to catch up to and these men were nothing more than distractions. "Look, sir, you and your friends are obviously drunk, why don`t you go back to your table, down your thirtieth shot of whatever it is you`re able to afford, and leave me alone?"
The man moved to shove him a fourth time, but, Cray caught him by the wrist with his own vicelike grip. "Let go of me!" the man shouted as his friends moved to intervene.
"Certainly," Cray said, bringing his knee up into the man`s groin and giving him a shove. He stepped back immediately so that he was out of the reach of squeaky`s friends.
Well, there was nothing that said he couldn`t have a little fun on somebody else`s dime for a change. Before they had time to react, he sprang forward and grabbed one of the three by the back of the neck. He spun him around and slammed his head down against the table with enough force to make the cheap wood splinter and send glasses flying everywhere. He loosened his grip and let the man fall to the floor, unconscious.
He whirled around, grabbed the second man by the wrist and twisted it around so it was pressed into his back. Cray smirked and pushed it up a little until a pop and a scream announced he`d broken the man`s elbow. While he let the man howl in pain, he quickly grabbed a pitcher of beer from one of the tables and cracked it over his head, flooring him.
With a sigh as if to say, "All in a day`s work", he turned back to the original thug who was beginning to recover from the initial blow. "Well," he said, "it`s your own fault." He spun around, delivering a kick to the side of the man`s head, which sent him staggering down to the floor with his comrades.
"Sorry about the mess," Cray called back to the bartender. "Just give my employer a call and I`m sure he`ll pay for everything." As he left the bar, Cray smiled to himself over the thought of the bartender trying to get some local crimelord to pay for the damages to his establishment. He almost wished he could be there to see it.
You Won`t Believe What It Can Do! (V)
By: M3May
Thread: Iron Writer
Posted: July 12, 2003
"Well, what brings you into town today, Tom?" asked Millie, the proprietor of the local grocers. "Isn`t it a little soon after your last visit?"
Thomas Conte gave her a warm smile. "I forgot a few things, Millie," he answered her. "Thought I`d come in and pick them up before I forgot them again."
He knew many considered him something of a hermit and the truth was he couldn`t blame them, it was a good description of his life. Especially since Lily had died. Afterall, he lived all alone up on that mountain now. Their mountain, he amended fondly. Lily had camped there as a child and had always regaled him with stories of the experience, so after he had retired he`d surprised her one anniversary by buying the mountain lock, stock, and barrel. That was enough for anyone to label him eccentric, but the truth was he`d done it simply for the look on her face. He`d gone on to build their home on the mountain with his own bare hands, with logs he`d chopped down off of their mountain. It was his home, had been their home, and that was the way he liked it. He wouldn`t trade it for the world, especially now that Lily was no longer with him. There were times he could feel her presence up there, among the flowers and the trees, in their garden, all over. She was watching over him.
He`d drive into town once every month to stock up on supplies, pay Stan a visit, and catch up on any happenings since his last trip in. He hadn`t meant to come in so soon after the last time, but as he`d told Millie, after getting caught up in his conversation with Stan on Lily`s birthday, he`d forgotten to pick up a few of the groceries he`d need to make it to the next month.
He handed Millie his basket and she began ringing the items up. "You doing okay up there, Tom?" she asked him.
"Same as always, Millie," he replied, nodding. "There seem to be more animals than usual this year, though. Haven`t quite figured out why, yet."
"Well, if anyone can do it, Tom, it`s you," she reassured him. "Busy night planned?"
He shrugged. "Not really. I thought I`d see what movies are on, try to find one worth watching."
He paid her and she gave him his change with a smile. "Well, you should come on down more often," she told him. "We enjoy your company."
He far preferred the privacy his mountain offered, but he thanked her nonetheless and wrapped the bags around his hands, carrying them out to his truck. As he tossed them into the back, he thought of going over to have another drink with Stan, but noticed a man in a suit with a very large pack going into the bar. "Salesman," he grunted. If there was one thing Thomas couldn`t stand, it was pushy salesmen. He felt some sympathy for Stan, but he had no intention of going anywhere near the bar that night, lest the salesman try to sell him something he didn`t need.
Thomas climbed into the truck and started on his way back up to his mountain and to his solitude.
Cray climbed out of his car and took in a breath of the fresh, clean air. It was a nice place, he told himself, almost like something out of a picture book or some painting of an idyllic life. Everybody knew everyone else. They probably didn`t bother locking their doors, he laughed. It would have been appealing if there wasn`t Ulbright to consider. With him in town, locking your door probably would have been a good idea.
The sun had nearly set and the air was getting chilly, so Cray shoved his hands into his pockets and began making his way up main street. He hadn`t seen any signs of Ulbright yet, but he had to be getting close. A man could only outwalk a car for so long.
As always, Cray made a beeline for the bar. Even if they didn`t know anything, he could probably find something to eat there, making it a priority stop for him.
Aside from one or two people, bartender excluded, the place was empty. "Evening," the bartender said to him, his demeanor the exact opposite of the one from the last town. "What can I get for you?"
Cray offered him a smile. "Something to eat and a drink would be great," he said, sliding into one of the leather-backed stools. "Nice place you have here." It was the truth. If it were a little closer to the city, Cray would come here often.
"Eh, it`s home," the bartender shrugged, sliding him a glass containing Cray-didn`t-know-what. "Don`t think I`ve seen you in here before. Must be traveler`s night." he chuckled. "What brings you here?"
"Oh," Cray shrugged back, "a little bit of business, you know how it is. I`m trying to catch up with an old friend of mine. He`s been going around these parts selling cleaning supplies of late. You wouldn`t happen to have seen him pass through, would you?"
The bartender let out a laugh. "Sure have," he answered. "He couldn`t have been here more than twenty minutes ago. Asking about anyone in need of that kind of stuff." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "I sent him up to visit an old friend of mine, lives on a mountain near here."
Cray raised an eyebrow. Well, this was good news. With any luck, he could have a quick meal and catch up to Ulbright in his car before he reached the mountain. "Why? Your friend in need of cleaning supplies?" Cray chuckled back.
The bartender laughed even louder. "Heck, no! He hates salesmen. Can`t stand `em. Thought it would be a great joke... hey, where are you going?"
Cray had jumped up immediately and was heading towards the door. "This mountain, how far is it?"
"Not far," the bartender replied, shaking his head.
"How long does it take to get to your friend`s house?"
"Depends on how fast you can walk."
Cray froze in his tracks. "You can`t drive up there?" he asked, incredulously.
"No, you can," the bartender amended, "but only if Tom tells you the code to get past the gate. Anyone else needs to trek up on foot."
"Beautiful," Cray muttered under his breath, leaving the bar. He hopped back into his car. At least he could drive as far as the gate. He silently cursed friends and the stupid pranks they pulled on one another.
Thomas popped another pretzel into his mouth and debated, not for the first time, whether or not he should get up and grab something to drink so he could wash the salty taste away. Then, he ate another pretzel and the debate started anew.
It wasn`t much, he knew, but he enjoyed it. Seated in an armchair that would remain comfortable long after he`d gone, a bowl of pretzels on his lap, and a good movie on the television-- for the moment, he was content.
It hadn`t taken long to find a good movie, luckily. Mister Robertson was an old favorite of his and one of the "classics" channels (when had a movie released in his lifetime become a "classic"?) was airing it. He`d been able to settle in for the night and enjoy himself. Actually, one of his favorite parts was coming up, when the young officer went and grabbed the captain`s fig tree, shoved it into an airlock, and spaced it. You couldn`t make this stuff up and Thomas wished he knew who that had happened to. It had to have been a great story.
Just as he`d finally decided he would grab himself a drink, there was a knock at his door. That surprised Thomas a little, as no one ever came up here. For one, it was a mountain and, road or no road, it was a bit of a hike to the top. Besides, he couldn`t think of any reason someone would come up here.
Setting the bowl of pretzels on the small table beside him, Thomas rose and went over to the door. As he opened it, a smiling face greeted him.
"Good evening! My name is Olin Ulbright and I represent Spruce Industries. I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time to demonstrate our latest cleaning package?"
Thomas Conte gave her a warm smile. "I forgot a few things, Millie," he answered her. "Thought I`d come in and pick them up before I forgot them again."
He knew many considered him something of a hermit and the truth was he couldn`t blame them, it was a good description of his life. Especially since Lily had died. Afterall, he lived all alone up on that mountain now. Their mountain, he amended fondly. Lily had camped there as a child and had always regaled him with stories of the experience, so after he had retired he`d surprised her one anniversary by buying the mountain lock, stock, and barrel. That was enough for anyone to label him eccentric, but the truth was he`d done it simply for the look on her face. He`d gone on to build their home on the mountain with his own bare hands, with logs he`d chopped down off of their mountain. It was his home, had been their home, and that was the way he liked it. He wouldn`t trade it for the world, especially now that Lily was no longer with him. There were times he could feel her presence up there, among the flowers and the trees, in their garden, all over. She was watching over him.
He`d drive into town once every month to stock up on supplies, pay Stan a visit, and catch up on any happenings since his last trip in. He hadn`t meant to come in so soon after the last time, but as he`d told Millie, after getting caught up in his conversation with Stan on Lily`s birthday, he`d forgotten to pick up a few of the groceries he`d need to make it to the next month.
He handed Millie his basket and she began ringing the items up. "You doing okay up there, Tom?" she asked him.
"Same as always, Millie," he replied, nodding. "There seem to be more animals than usual this year, though. Haven`t quite figured out why, yet."
"Well, if anyone can do it, Tom, it`s you," she reassured him. "Busy night planned?"
He shrugged. "Not really. I thought I`d see what movies are on, try to find one worth watching."
He paid her and she gave him his change with a smile. "Well, you should come on down more often," she told him. "We enjoy your company."
He far preferred the privacy his mountain offered, but he thanked her nonetheless and wrapped the bags around his hands, carrying them out to his truck. As he tossed them into the back, he thought of going over to have another drink with Stan, but noticed a man in a suit with a very large pack going into the bar. "Salesman," he grunted. If there was one thing Thomas couldn`t stand, it was pushy salesmen. He felt some sympathy for Stan, but he had no intention of going anywhere near the bar that night, lest the salesman try to sell him something he didn`t need.
Thomas climbed into the truck and started on his way back up to his mountain and to his solitude.
Cray climbed out of his car and took in a breath of the fresh, clean air. It was a nice place, he told himself, almost like something out of a picture book or some painting of an idyllic life. Everybody knew everyone else. They probably didn`t bother locking their doors, he laughed. It would have been appealing if there wasn`t Ulbright to consider. With him in town, locking your door probably would have been a good idea.
The sun had nearly set and the air was getting chilly, so Cray shoved his hands into his pockets and began making his way up main street. He hadn`t seen any signs of Ulbright yet, but he had to be getting close. A man could only outwalk a car for so long.
As always, Cray made a beeline for the bar. Even if they didn`t know anything, he could probably find something to eat there, making it a priority stop for him.
Aside from one or two people, bartender excluded, the place was empty. "Evening," the bartender said to him, his demeanor the exact opposite of the one from the last town. "What can I get for you?"
Cray offered him a smile. "Something to eat and a drink would be great," he said, sliding into one of the leather-backed stools. "Nice place you have here." It was the truth. If it were a little closer to the city, Cray would come here often.
"Eh, it`s home," the bartender shrugged, sliding him a glass containing Cray-didn`t-know-what. "Don`t think I`ve seen you in here before. Must be traveler`s night." he chuckled. "What brings you here?"
"Oh," Cray shrugged back, "a little bit of business, you know how it is. I`m trying to catch up with an old friend of mine. He`s been going around these parts selling cleaning supplies of late. You wouldn`t happen to have seen him pass through, would you?"
The bartender let out a laugh. "Sure have," he answered. "He couldn`t have been here more than twenty minutes ago. Asking about anyone in need of that kind of stuff." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "I sent him up to visit an old friend of mine, lives on a mountain near here."
Cray raised an eyebrow. Well, this was good news. With any luck, he could have a quick meal and catch up to Ulbright in his car before he reached the mountain. "Why? Your friend in need of cleaning supplies?" Cray chuckled back.
The bartender laughed even louder. "Heck, no! He hates salesmen. Can`t stand `em. Thought it would be a great joke... hey, where are you going?"
Cray had jumped up immediately and was heading towards the door. "This mountain, how far is it?"
"Not far," the bartender replied, shaking his head.
"How long does it take to get to your friend`s house?"
"Depends on how fast you can walk."
Cray froze in his tracks. "You can`t drive up there?" he asked, incredulously.
"No, you can," the bartender amended, "but only if Tom tells you the code to get past the gate. Anyone else needs to trek up on foot."
"Beautiful," Cray muttered under his breath, leaving the bar. He hopped back into his car. At least he could drive as far as the gate. He silently cursed friends and the stupid pranks they pulled on one another.
Thomas popped another pretzel into his mouth and debated, not for the first time, whether or not he should get up and grab something to drink so he could wash the salty taste away. Then, he ate another pretzel and the debate started anew.
It wasn`t much, he knew, but he enjoyed it. Seated in an armchair that would remain comfortable long after he`d gone, a bowl of pretzels on his lap, and a good movie on the television-- for the moment, he was content.
It hadn`t taken long to find a good movie, luckily. Mister Robertson was an old favorite of his and one of the "classics" channels (when had a movie released in his lifetime become a "classic"?) was airing it. He`d been able to settle in for the night and enjoy himself. Actually, one of his favorite parts was coming up, when the young officer went and grabbed the captain`s fig tree, shoved it into an airlock, and spaced it. You couldn`t make this stuff up and Thomas wished he knew who that had happened to. It had to have been a great story.
Just as he`d finally decided he would grab himself a drink, there was a knock at his door. That surprised Thomas a little, as no one ever came up here. For one, it was a mountain and, road or no road, it was a bit of a hike to the top. Besides, he couldn`t think of any reason someone would come up here.
Setting the bowl of pretzels on the small table beside him, Thomas rose and went over to the door. As he opened it, a smiling face greeted him.
"Good evening! My name is Olin Ulbright and I represent Spruce Industries. I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time to demonstrate our latest cleaning package?"
You Won`t Believe What It Can Do! (VI)
By: M3May
Thread: Iron Writer
Posted: July 12, 2003
It was all Cray could do not to fall to his knees and scream "Hallelujah!" as the old man`s house came into view. He`d run all the way up and never caught so much as a glimpse of Ulbright-- meaning the salesman had beat him to the house. Still, Cray had him now. He wouldn`t let the salesman leave this mountain without catching him.
Cray bent forward, bracing himself against his knees as he sought to catch his breath. A man would only need to walk that length once a week to get in shape, or so it seemed to him. Maybe he was simply out of shape. His legs felt like lead. Nevertheless, he began walking towards the house.
He was about to knock on the door when, on impulse, he decided to glance through a window first. As he did so, he caught his first sight of Ulbright in the flesh.
The salesman was kneeling down on the floor over an old man-- the man`s arm was a bloody mess of cuts and gashes. In his hand, Ulbright held a blood-stained knife. In his other hand, he was operating the Dirt Leaf, lecturing the old man as he cleaned the blood stains out of the carpet with it.
Cray stumbled backwards and he was suddenly glad he hadn`t had time to eat as everything in his stomach came up and out. He couldn`t help it, the sight was just too sickening, even for somebody like him.
As he rose, the door to the house suddenly flew open. So much for the element of surprise, Cray thought, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. It was Ulbright, pointing a gun straight at him.
"Who are you?" the salesman demanded.
"Heya, Olin," Cray said, smiling. Maybe he could knock the man off-balance.
Ulbright took another step out, gun still pointed squarely at Cray. "How do you know my name?"
Cray spread his hands wide to show he was unarmed. "I`m from the company, Olin," he replied. "I`m here to bring you back." He paused for a few seconds, then said, "You`ve been named our employee of the month. We`ve got a plaque for you and everything. But, we have to go right now."
Ulbright eyed him skeptically. "How come I`ve never seen you before?"
Cray shrugged. "You spend your time walking alone from house to house. You tell me."
Ulbright nodded, conceding the point.
"Now, just give me the gun, Olin, and let`s go get your award." Cray held out a hand.
The salesman stopped and thought about it for a few moments, then shook his head. "No. I can`t do that. You saw, didn`t you? I can`t let anyone who saw live. They`ll tell on me and get me fired and I won`t let that happen again!"
"They already know, Olin," Cray replied. "That`s why they sent me." Too late Cray realized he`d just blown any chance of convincing the man to go with him to get an "award".
Ulbright jabbed the gun in Cray`s direction. "I knew it!" he said. "You`re here to stop me! To make me fail!"
"I`m not, Olin--"
"STOP CALLING ME THAT!!!!" he shouted.
Cray fell silent after that and the tension hung in the air like the grim reaper waiting to swing his scythe and take the both of them. With nothing else to lose, Cray asked, "So, why do you do it?"
The question seemed to take the other man by surprise, but he answered nonetheless. "They said `no`. Just like everyone else. Just like the university, just like my wife-- she got the house, you know. She always gets what she wants while I`m told `no`!" He began to shake with rage. "Just like all my other bosses who wouldn`t give me a second chance, wouldn`t give me a raise, wouldn`t give me the respect I deserved... they all told me `no`! But, I`m good at this job... I can get people to say `yes` and buy my product! I don`t have to hear that word and I get respect! I never want to hear that word again and I`ll never let anybody say it to me!"
Cray let out a sigh. The man was a sicko. Creepy sicko, he amended, remembering the woman from earlier with a smile. "No," he said to Ulbright, adding, "Olin."
"Stop that!" the salesman ordered, his aim visibly shaking.
Cray smiled at the man, replying, "No."
"I`m serious!" Ulbright screamed.
"No, no, no, no, no," Cray repeated. Then, he brought his leg up in a kick that sent Ulbright`s hand and the gun flying upwards. He watched as the gun slipped out of the salesman`s hand and went through the air to land on the roof of the old man`s cabin. They both watched anxiously as the gun began to slide down the slanted surface, but fortune smiled on Cray and the gun was caught in the rain gutter.
Without a second thought, Cray tackled the other man, catching him with his shoulder and sending him crashing through the doorway and into the wall inside. He stepped back as Ulbright shook his head in an effort to clear it. In the end, it had been easier than he`d thought it would be.
He spoke too soon, though, as Ulbright leapt to his feet and slammed Cray back against the corner of the doorframe. Cray thought he could hear the wood cracking-- or maybe that was his spine. Regardless, he grabbed the other man by the shoulders and threw him sideways into what looked to be the living room. Ulbright fell onto a small table, smashing it to pieces, breaking the lamp on it, and sending pretzels flying everywhere. Cray managed to catch one and pop it into his mouth. His hunger was getting to be unbearable.
Ulbright rose again, though, and tried to throw a punch at Cray. The man nimbly sidestepped it and let the salesman`s momentum carry him forward. He quickly grabbed the collar and back of Ulbright`s shirt, picked him up, and swung him at the window. Ulbright`s head smashed through the pane with a loud crash and he screamed in pain. Cray yanked him back in and dropped him on the floor.
Again, Ulbright rose to his feet, hair now matted with blood.
"Oh, for pity`s sake," Cray exclaimed, "will you just stay down?"
Without waiting for the salesman to make another move, Cray punched him across the jaw and was rewarded with a satisfying "thunk" as the man fell to the floor. This time, he did not get up.
Shaking his hand in the hopes of driving out the pain of the punch, Cray went to the other room where the old man lay. A quick examination of the arm showed that Ulbright hadn`t cut any vital arteries yet. Provided he received medical attention, the man should live and Cray should still get his bonus.
Cray stopped himself and looked at the floor around them. There wasn`t a single blood stain to be found. He let out a low whistle. "Wow, that thing really works, huh?"
The old man`s eyes fluttered open and Cray returned his attention to him. "Don`t worry, sir," he said, "you`ll be just fine. I`ll have help here in a jiffy." He fished around in his inside pocket and withdrew a business card for Spruce Industries. "Sorry for the mess," he said, handing the old man the card. "Just give them a call and I`m sure they`d be more than happy to pay for any damages."
With a final pat and a smile, Cray went to find a phone.
Cray bent forward, bracing himself against his knees as he sought to catch his breath. A man would only need to walk that length once a week to get in shape, or so it seemed to him. Maybe he was simply out of shape. His legs felt like lead. Nevertheless, he began walking towards the house.
He was about to knock on the door when, on impulse, he decided to glance through a window first. As he did so, he caught his first sight of Ulbright in the flesh.
The salesman was kneeling down on the floor over an old man-- the man`s arm was a bloody mess of cuts and gashes. In his hand, Ulbright held a blood-stained knife. In his other hand, he was operating the Dirt Leaf, lecturing the old man as he cleaned the blood stains out of the carpet with it.
Cray stumbled backwards and he was suddenly glad he hadn`t had time to eat as everything in his stomach came up and out. He couldn`t help it, the sight was just too sickening, even for somebody like him.
As he rose, the door to the house suddenly flew open. So much for the element of surprise, Cray thought, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. It was Ulbright, pointing a gun straight at him.
"Who are you?" the salesman demanded.
"Heya, Olin," Cray said, smiling. Maybe he could knock the man off-balance.
Ulbright took another step out, gun still pointed squarely at Cray. "How do you know my name?"
Cray spread his hands wide to show he was unarmed. "I`m from the company, Olin," he replied. "I`m here to bring you back." He paused for a few seconds, then said, "You`ve been named our employee of the month. We`ve got a plaque for you and everything. But, we have to go right now."
Ulbright eyed him skeptically. "How come I`ve never seen you before?"
Cray shrugged. "You spend your time walking alone from house to house. You tell me."
Ulbright nodded, conceding the point.
"Now, just give me the gun, Olin, and let`s go get your award." Cray held out a hand.
The salesman stopped and thought about it for a few moments, then shook his head. "No. I can`t do that. You saw, didn`t you? I can`t let anyone who saw live. They`ll tell on me and get me fired and I won`t let that happen again!"
"They already know, Olin," Cray replied. "That`s why they sent me." Too late Cray realized he`d just blown any chance of convincing the man to go with him to get an "award".
Ulbright jabbed the gun in Cray`s direction. "I knew it!" he said. "You`re here to stop me! To make me fail!"
"I`m not, Olin--"
"STOP CALLING ME THAT!!!!" he shouted.
Cray fell silent after that and the tension hung in the air like the grim reaper waiting to swing his scythe and take the both of them. With nothing else to lose, Cray asked, "So, why do you do it?"
The question seemed to take the other man by surprise, but he answered nonetheless. "They said `no`. Just like everyone else. Just like the university, just like my wife-- she got the house, you know. She always gets what she wants while I`m told `no`!" He began to shake with rage. "Just like all my other bosses who wouldn`t give me a second chance, wouldn`t give me a raise, wouldn`t give me the respect I deserved... they all told me `no`! But, I`m good at this job... I can get people to say `yes` and buy my product! I don`t have to hear that word and I get respect! I never want to hear that word again and I`ll never let anybody say it to me!"
Cray let out a sigh. The man was a sicko. Creepy sicko, he amended, remembering the woman from earlier with a smile. "No," he said to Ulbright, adding, "Olin."
"Stop that!" the salesman ordered, his aim visibly shaking.
Cray smiled at the man, replying, "No."
"I`m serious!" Ulbright screamed.
"No, no, no, no, no," Cray repeated. Then, he brought his leg up in a kick that sent Ulbright`s hand and the gun flying upwards. He watched as the gun slipped out of the salesman`s hand and went through the air to land on the roof of the old man`s cabin. They both watched anxiously as the gun began to slide down the slanted surface, but fortune smiled on Cray and the gun was caught in the rain gutter.
Without a second thought, Cray tackled the other man, catching him with his shoulder and sending him crashing through the doorway and into the wall inside. He stepped back as Ulbright shook his head in an effort to clear it. In the end, it had been easier than he`d thought it would be.
He spoke too soon, though, as Ulbright leapt to his feet and slammed Cray back against the corner of the doorframe. Cray thought he could hear the wood cracking-- or maybe that was his spine. Regardless, he grabbed the other man by the shoulders and threw him sideways into what looked to be the living room. Ulbright fell onto a small table, smashing it to pieces, breaking the lamp on it, and sending pretzels flying everywhere. Cray managed to catch one and pop it into his mouth. His hunger was getting to be unbearable.
Ulbright rose again, though, and tried to throw a punch at Cray. The man nimbly sidestepped it and let the salesman`s momentum carry him forward. He quickly grabbed the collar and back of Ulbright`s shirt, picked him up, and swung him at the window. Ulbright`s head smashed through the pane with a loud crash and he screamed in pain. Cray yanked him back in and dropped him on the floor.
Again, Ulbright rose to his feet, hair now matted with blood.
"Oh, for pity`s sake," Cray exclaimed, "will you just stay down?"
Without waiting for the salesman to make another move, Cray punched him across the jaw and was rewarded with a satisfying "thunk" as the man fell to the floor. This time, he did not get up.
Shaking his hand in the hopes of driving out the pain of the punch, Cray went to the other room where the old man lay. A quick examination of the arm showed that Ulbright hadn`t cut any vital arteries yet. Provided he received medical attention, the man should live and Cray should still get his bonus.
Cray stopped himself and looked at the floor around them. There wasn`t a single blood stain to be found. He let out a low whistle. "Wow, that thing really works, huh?"
The old man`s eyes fluttered open and Cray returned his attention to him. "Don`t worry, sir," he said, "you`ll be just fine. I`ll have help here in a jiffy." He fished around in his inside pocket and withdrew a business card for Spruce Industries. "Sorry for the mess," he said, handing the old man the card. "Just give them a call and I`m sure they`d be more than happy to pay for any damages."
With a final pat and a smile, Cray went to find a phone.
You Won`t Believe What It Can Do! (VII)
By: M3May
Thread: Iron Writer
Posted: July 12, 2003
"Well, Cray, how`d you do?"
"25,000GP," Cray replied with a smirk as he entered the office. "Care to beat that, Jaca?"
His partner grinned. "As a matter of fact, I do. I made 40,000GP."
Cray`s smirk immediately left his face. "You`ve got to be kidding me."
"Nope," Jaca replied. "Seems there was this rich kid who refused to laugh and his father was offering a reward."
"A 40,000GP reward?" Cray asked, incredulously.
Jaca shook his head. "Heck, no," he said. "The reward was only 10,000GP. But, I got the kid to laugh by... well, you remember that trip we took to Tasnica where you had a little too much to drink and got into a dress? I showed him that."
The man froze. "I destroyed all the pictures," Cray said accusingly.
"You thought you destroyed all the pictures," Jaca smiled.
Cray shoved out his hand. "Give it."
"Don`t have it anymore," Jaca shrugged. "The father was so happy that he offered to buy the picture and I was able to get him up to an extra 30,000. So, I got 40,000GP out of the deal." He leaned back in his chair. "So, you lost the bet."
"Yeah, yeah," Cray sighed, kicking himself for not asking for more. Afterall, he`d had the Spruce CEO right where he`d wanted him.
"What was it you did, anyway?" Jaca asked.
"Tracked down a homicidal traveling salesman," Cray shrugged. "You know, the usual." He paused, remembering his conversation with the CEO. "You know, Jaca, we really need to give this business a name."
His partner waved a dismissive hand. "Eh, we do fine as we are." He noticed the package Cray was carrying. "What`s that?"
Cray looked down and smiled. "Oh, this?" He held up the Dirt Leaf cleaning package. "Present," he said. "You would not believe the things this baby can do."
"25,000GP," Cray replied with a smirk as he entered the office. "Care to beat that, Jaca?"
His partner grinned. "As a matter of fact, I do. I made 40,000GP."
Cray`s smirk immediately left his face. "You`ve got to be kidding me."
"Nope," Jaca replied. "Seems there was this rich kid who refused to laugh and his father was offering a reward."
"A 40,000GP reward?" Cray asked, incredulously.
Jaca shook his head. "Heck, no," he said. "The reward was only 10,000GP. But, I got the kid to laugh by... well, you remember that trip we took to Tasnica where you had a little too much to drink and got into a dress? I showed him that."
The man froze. "I destroyed all the pictures," Cray said accusingly.
"You thought you destroyed all the pictures," Jaca smiled.
Cray shoved out his hand. "Give it."
"Don`t have it anymore," Jaca shrugged. "The father was so happy that he offered to buy the picture and I was able to get him up to an extra 30,000. So, I got 40,000GP out of the deal." He leaned back in his chair. "So, you lost the bet."
"Yeah, yeah," Cray sighed, kicking himself for not asking for more. Afterall, he`d had the Spruce CEO right where he`d wanted him.
"What was it you did, anyway?" Jaca asked.
"Tracked down a homicidal traveling salesman," Cray shrugged. "You know, the usual." He paused, remembering his conversation with the CEO. "You know, Jaca, we really need to give this business a name."
His partner waved a dismissive hand. "Eh, we do fine as we are." He noticed the package Cray was carrying. "What`s that?"
Cray looked down and smiled. "Oh, this?" He held up the Dirt Leaf cleaning package. "Present," he said. "You would not believe the things this baby can do."